


samīcīnatā

by weaslayyy



Series: vivaham [1]
Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaslayyy/pseuds/weaslayyy
Summary: propriety saves the day and somehow the two worst court politicians the world has ever seen manage to finesse their way into becoming king and queen. sivagami is only slightly amused.





	samīcīnatā

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fiera94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiera94/gifts).



> samīcīnatā: propriety, fitness, truth.

The day before Crown Princess Devasena is supposed to leave the shores of her birthright she addresses her court one final time. There is a universe where each of her brother’s governors simply rise to wish her well, present her with a gift from their particular area and leave, never to be seen by Devasena in her lifetime.

This one is just different enough to change the course of an Empire.

“Crown Princess,” she hears and tries to suppress a groan. A man whose name escapes her rises, bows and walks to the front of the throne room, licking his lips twice before he opens his mouth to speak.

Devasena raises an eyebrow and Lord Shashank takes a step back and tries again.

“Crown Princess,” he says. “I understand that the Crown Prince of Mahishmati is, of course, a trustworthy man, but I simply wish to bring up the manner of _propriety_.”

She blinks. Devasena has very little patience for the intricacies of court, so confusion is not something she is unfamiliar with, especially in regards to “propriety”. She has learned that in these situations it is simply best to ask for elaboration. “Of what, my Lord?”

“Of _propriety_ ,” he responds, the word erupting violently from his lips in a manner which makes her glad that she had glared him into stepping back a few moments ago.

Her elder brother sighs, and Devasena wishes for a moment that she had been allowed to bring her fiance to this august gathering of pompous old men, muscles weak from the manner of living the last few years of good rain have allowed them to enjoy.

“Forgive us,” Jayavarma says from somewhere behind Devasena. “As you remember, our mother died when we were young.” It is his standard response when Devasena’s manners are brought into question. She maintains that she allows propriety for those who deserve it.

Devasena was .... never quite a contender for the Kuntala throne, for more reasons than birth order.

“Well yes, of course, may our Queen rest in peace.” Shashank has grown flustered because it seems that Jayavarma has no more clue than Devasena as to which code of conduct she has managed to break.

“My Lord, I think you’ll just have to say it,” she says and tries to put on a gentle, benevolent smile befitting the future Queen of Mahishmati. There is a small voice in the back of her head that screams she is totally unprepared for her future role but she manages to quieten it with the reminder that she was wooed by the future King who pretended to be a nimrod and slept in her kitchen.

How bad could propriety be, if that is the behavior of their exalted Leader?

Shashank seems to have finally found the courage Devasena never knew was within him. He takes a breath. “Well, my Lady, the fact of the matter is that we are sending you, unwed to a foreign land. There is a reason that marriages are held first within the bride’s home, you know.”

Devasena can feel it when the entire court inhales sharply. For a moment, all she can see is red.

“Are you implying that _I_ ,” she begins. “Are you implying that the honorable Crown Prince of _Mahishmati_ would...” The thought is unbearable -- that she, Devasena would willingly be a tool of pleasure to any man, that she would accept a life without the honor due a life partner, that she would stay the unmarried concubine of even the head of an Empire. She grabs for her sword.

“Devasena,” she hears, and she loosens her grip. Her brother has stood, and so does the court. With a wave of his hand, they reclaim their seats.

“That’s not going to happen,” Devasena says. “It is Mahishmati tradition to marry in their sacred temple.”

Shashank almost looks sympathetic for what Devasena thinks must be the first time in his life. Or maybe he’s still scared she’ll try to gut him like a fish. “Just as it is Kuntala’s tradition to marry in ours. The only weddings that take place in the husband’s home are ones that are unsanctioned by the bride’s.”

There are murmurs of agreement, and when Devasena looks behind to her brother standing one arm length away he seems to have come to the same conclusion.

“I don’t think it has to be a big one,” he offers, and Devasena hears no dissent from the men behind her. “Just a fire and the threads, I think.”

Devasena sighs and remembers the vows Baahubali made in front of the burning torches of the palace wall. What is one more wedding after all?

“I’ll talk to him,” she says and walks out.

 

***********

“They _what_?”

“They want us to get married.” Devasena sighs and takes a seat under the tree where her fiance was apparently found sleeping. The clothes he was given when his identity was revealed are now covered in dirt. She raises her hand to brush it off, falters, then continues because she loves him, patting gentler than she might have with anyone else and avoiding his knowing gaze.

“Aren’t we supposed to be leaving the day after?” He sounds thoughtful more than anything really, and Devasena thinks that it might be nice to have a partner who doesn’t immediately spring into anger.

“Yes.” Well, they are.

“But they say it would be a simple ceremony, largely to prevent your home from thinking that you’re sailing away to--”

“Be your concubine, yes.”

He stiffens, and Devasena is forced to finally look up and meet his eyes. Interesting. When he rages, it is almost self-contained -- a far cry from the explosive nature of hers. She can see the anger in the shape of his muscles, the tautness of his jaw all coiled like a tiger in the moments before it leaps. She dares to run her pointer finger down the length of his right shoulder, slowly and watches in amazement as he loosens just slightly.

There is a moment, or maybe an age when they simply look into the depths of each other’s eyes.

“You know that I would never --”  
  
“I do.” He vowed to die before seeing her dishonor, of course, she knows. But what Shashank said about propriety, well it was really more about perception. Devasena is not good at diplomacy, but even she understands the necessity of public image.

Baahubali relaxes, and Devasena notices that there is a smidge of dirt that clings to his beard. She brushes it away and he catches her hand, holding it close to his cheek. The last of the tension he holds slips away and when he looks at her Devasena remembers why, after everything, she agreed to leave everything she knew and try her hand at being Queen of an Empire she has never seen.

“Is tomorrow a good day,” her fiance asks and, caught in the throes of love Devasena allows the first thing that occurs to her to slip past her lips.

“I think any day we marry would be a good day dearest.”

Her husband laughs, and if he brings her in for a kiss, scandalous before the wedding day, well perhaps Devasena only thinks of how fortunate she is that she will be married off the next day.

 

*********

The wedding itself is small, but there is something about it that makes Devasena think there is something to propriety after all. She gets to exchange vows in the temple her mother loved so much, a tangible connection to a woman that she loves in the only way you can care for someone who you barely remember.

Her brother and sister in law stand behind her, helping to tie the knot of the mangalsutra that Baahubali puts around her and Devasena watches as Kattapa does the same for her husband. She wonders if Mahishmati, which she has been informed considers the man a piece of property, would allow him the joy of taking part in the marriage ceremony of the only son he will ever have. It disquiets her, the knowledge of the true dynamic of what seems to be a loving relationship, but she puts off her worries for another day.

“We can have a second ceremony,” she whispers to Baahubali at some point during the ceremony, and from the way he shrugs and looks to his “uncle”, she wonders if he is beginning to come to a similar conclusion.

“Mother will like that,” he says, and then he moves to pinch the vermillion and all thoughts of Mahishmati and mothers and weddings that aren’t this one, in particular, are shoved into the dark recesses of her mind.

The day dawned bright and glorious and Devasena was a girl, the Crown Princess of Kuntala. Alone, shooting arrows and saving her citizens to cover the vast emptiness of always being just slightly misunderstood, too angry, too determined, too stubborn, too much.

By dusk, she is a wife. When she leans just slightly to her right she bumps into the form of her _husband_ who saw her fighting and fell in love, in direct contradiction to every single woman who always told her that she would give up her bow for the right man.

“Wife,” her husband says, and she realizes that everyone has left them to stand facing the setting sun, alone together in the temple of her ancestors.

“Husband,” she replies and thinks about how lovely it would be if this was all they ever had to be.

 

********

For a moment, Devasena flails, trying to grab for something, anything solid in the chaos of her mind. The Queen Mother said that she had sent the proposal for her son Bhalla, which means...which means .... which--

“But we’re married!” Lord Shashank, useful in his advice for perhaps the first time in his entire life. Devasena isn’t sure if she’ll ever forgive the Queen Mother for forcing her to acknowledge the functions of “propriety.”

Sivagami takes a step back, eyes widening. Her son, Devasena’s husband, stands still at his mother’s side and Devasena looks to him to see who he will choose. He avoids her gaze, and Devasena grits her teeth, choosing to focus on the absent throne instead.

She takes a breath and opens her mouth to speak, not knowing what exactly she will say in her anger. She grabs at her mangalsutra absently, thinking of how Mahishmati asked for her hand without seeing her, without knowing her, tried to capture her and sell her off to its eldest son as a consolation prize.

There is a great murmur, and when Devasena looks back her husband is nowhere to be seen. She hears a thump, an unsheathing of metal and when she blinks she sees her husband striding forward like a lion sword in hand, only the panic in his eyes betraying that his grand plans have gone awry. When he reaches her he grabs her hand, squeezing in a plea that Devasena doesn’t yet understand.

“Let me try,” he mouths, and Devasena is tempted to tell him that his try is what landed them in this position in the first place but she decides to stay silent. She looks to the Queen Mother and knows that Sivagami has interpreted his position just as she should -- her son is no longer her own. Devasena looks back to her husband and smiles. He nods and then turns around.

“Mother,” he says, and Sivagami’s nostrils flare. “I first met Devasena while on tour. She was unaware of my identity and allowed me to stay as a servant in her household. We fell in love.”

The Queen Mother raises an eyebrow. “She fell in love with a foreign servant,” Devasena notes absently that the idea of her son the heir to Mahishmati’s throne masquerading as a servant does not phase Sivagami before puffing up in indignation at the implications of her statement.

“He had the looks of a great hero,” she says before realizing that she was supposed to let Baahubali explain. Oh well. “His idiot act could fool my family but I knew that a man who could cleave a tree stump in one blow and shoot 13 wild boars must be a man of great courage.”

“You married him for his strength.” The Queen Mother, almost despite herself, seems curious. Devasena wonders if this is a trap. Still, she shakes her head.

“He was a great warrior, and when we were alone he sometimes showed signs what I thought could be a great intelligence.” Devasena pauses, before barrelling forward. Not even her husband is aware of this next reason. “He slept in our kitchens, as many of our servants do, and I would see him churn butter by moonlight because the servant woman whose job it was had grown weak but needed the pay.”

She can see Baahubali blushing from the corner of her eye, but Devasena smiles, looking around at the court of her husband. “I was in the middle before I knew I had begun, and I was fortunate enough to know that my husband need not be of royal lineage.”

Sivagami, whose face had almost begun to betray a smile, jolts at this. “Why?”

Who said Devasena couldn’t play politics? “I was Crown Princess before I married your son, and my brother has not been able to produce an heir. My child would have been the next ruler of Kuntala unless a greater nation laid claim to their loyalties.”

Mahishmati, the greatest Empire in the region, is a loyalty that supersedes the Kuntalan throne. Still, a throne is a throne. Devasena is not a woman without resources, and Sivagami is a wise woman. She nods.

“Mother,” Baahubali speaks in an attempt to refocus the conversation. “We were in love before I got your message before you had sent the proposal. Devasena chose me over the riches of Mahishmati.”

Devasena thinks that she would have chosen a cockroach over the bribe of Mahishmati, but she understands what Baahubali is trying to imply. She nods, attempting to play the lovestruck wife who would travel to the very gates of Death alongside her husband. It is not overly difficult.

The Queen Mother is silent for a moment, her eyes tracking the citizens filling the seats along the throne room, the ministers, her eldest son and husband in their thrones to her left. She sighs, and Devasena knows she has won a split second before anyone else does. There is a glint of humor in Sivagami’s eyes.

“I cannot, of course, split a couple that has been sanctified by the holy fire of the Lord. This pair is destined for seven lifetimes together, as are all those who are married. They will have a second ceremony in a month’s time in our temple by our traditions. The coronation will take place the day after.”

There is, at first, silence. Then, a roar. The Queen Mother’s husband has been set loose.

“Woman!” Even Devasena gasps. To dishonor the Queen Mother in her own court? “You show once again favor to the orphan over the son of your own womb! You give crown and wife to the beggar and nothing to your eldest, the rightful heir!”

Sivagami’s eyes flash. Devasena, who at one point would have happily seen her run through with a sword feels pity, and a sudden understanding of the authoritarian tone of Mahishmati's original proposal. Baahubali takes a step forward, but Devasena grabs the back of his tunic to keep him at her side. There is something slightly worrying about being married to a man who seems to understand Court Politics even less than she.  

“We are Mahishmati, the greatest Empire seen on the face of this Earth! It is our tradition to marry in our own temple. Who is this ... mountain woman, to flout our values and then attempt to ascend to our throne?”

Baahubali leans slightly into Devasena. “Wasn’t Mother Parvati also from the mountains?”

“Yes.” Devasena elbows her husband. “Now shut up.”

“The Great God Himself married Mother Meenakshi in her own home,” Sivagami says, and Devasena realizes that living here might not be so difficult when the mother is so similar to her favorite son. “We cannot pretend to be greater than the Lord.”

“And what about your son, whom you promised the hand of the woman he loves?”

Devasena scoffs audibly, and her husband elbows her right back. Sivagami turns, just in time to catch him at it.

“The Crown Princess was not mine for the giving at the time of my promise. It matters not that the man she had been lost to happened to be my son’s brother. I will find him another bride.”

....not perfect, but Devasena manages to nod. Her husband grabs blindly for her hand and squeezes.

“Not bad for a first day,” she whispers. Sivagami dismisses the court. “Now we just have to figure out the rest of our lives.”

"It's alright," Baahubali whispers back. "I figure in five years my uncle will be old enough that people will believe he died of natural causes." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy christmas/margazhi!!!! I hope you like it!!!


End file.
